A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(12)

But Phoebe’s lips remained pressed into a thin line, and she turned away from the group and walked with her nose in the air—in Mr. Langdon’s direction.

The dancers got ready for the first dance as the music was already starting. Mr. Langdon had found a partner and was leading her to the floor. Phoebe changed direction and stood with an air of nonchalance by a group of young men.

Mr. Dinklage was still staring at Julia, his face suffused with a befuddled blush.

Sarah Peck’s distressed countenance appeared in her memory. Hadn’t Julia promised not to dissuade any respectable suitor? Wouldn’t it be foolish of her to ignore a gentleman who was interested in her? A man with the means to marry her? Of course, she must explore her options, must give the man a chance to secure her affections.

She continued trying to participate in the conversation around her, but it quickly degenerated into a game to see who could bestow the highest praise on Mr. Langdon. Julia was wondering how she might extricate herself to go in search of more mature conversation, when she looked up to see Mr. Dinklage stepping hesitantly to her side.

“May I bring you some lemonade, Miss Grey?”

“You are very thoughtful, Mr. Dinklage. Thank you.”

Mr. Langdon was dancing with a young lady, at that moment passing close to where Julia stood with the other young ladies bent on praising him. The girls didn’t seem to notice his presence, however, and Mr. Langdon gave Julia a slight smile before turning back to his partner.

“Julia, didn’t you hear me?”

“What?” Julia turned to Emma Holcomb.

“Are you getting overheated, Julia? Do you need to get some air?”

“You do look a bit flushed,” another girl said.

“No, no, I am quite well.”

“I was asking if you had ever been to Bath.”

“Oh yes, once. It was lovely.” Why did Mr. Langdon have such an ability to discompose her? She vowed not to pay him the least attention.

When the dance was over, Mr. Dinklage was hovering at her side. She took the drink from his hand. “Thank you.”

She looked up to see her friend Felicity Mayson walking toward them.

“Felicity.” Julia grabbed her friend’s hand. “If I may, I’d like to introduce Mr. Daniel Dinklage.”

They exchanged pleasantries, with Mr. Dinklage blushing, glancing away and back, and generally looking as if he’d never been in polite society before tonight.

But at least he wasn’t overconfident and flirtatious.

Julia expected Mr. Dinklage to ask her to dance, but the three of them simply stood awkwardly looking at each other. The music was starting, and Julia wanted to dance, and with Mr. Dinklage. If she were to get to know him, she must dance with him at least once.

She gave Mr. Dinklage a crooked smile. His eyes grew bigger, and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Finally, she resorted to asking, “Mr. Dinklage, do you dance?”

“Y-yes, Miss Grey, though perhaps not very well.”

“I’m sure you dance well.” Well enough. The music was starting. Couldn’t he take a hint? She gave him her best sideways glance, well aware that Felicity was staring at her as if she had just sprouted horns.

“Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Grey?” he said.

I thought you’d never ask. “It would be my pleasure.”

He led her onto the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Mr. Langdon but refused to look at him.

Mr. Dinklage’s dancing was as halting and hesitant as the way he walked and talked. During the course of the dance, they said very little to each other until Mr. Dinklage said, rather breathlessly, “You look beautiful tonight, Miss Grey.”

“You are very kind.”

When the dance ended, Julia excused herself. Mr. Dinklage bowed politely, and Julia went to join Felicity, who was standing nearby.

Julia grabbed her friend’s hand, and they moved away from the crowd so they could talk privately.

Julia told her about Sarah being sent away to be a governess elsewhere and her plea to Julia to find someone to marry.

Felicity frowned and shook her head. “I do not like to think of you throwing yourself away just because of what Sarah Peck said.”

“I am not planning my wedding just yet, Felicity. I doubt his mother would look favorably on the match.”

“If she doesn’t, you can comfort yourself in the fact that you are far above him in appearance, talent, sense, and manners.”

“But none of those things matter as much as having a few thousand pounds to my name, which I do not.” Julia smiled in an attempt to make light of the situation. But Felicity of all people understood Julia’s situation. She was the eleventh child of twelve, and though her father was a successful attorney from a family of landed gentlemen, Felicity would have very little in the way of a dowry. Her prospects were almost as slim as Julia’s.

Two of Phoebe’s cousins on her mother’s side, Thomas and Walter Atwater, approached them and uttered the usual pleasantries. They were not particularly attractive, but they were young and unattached, and so Julia was glad when Mr. Walter Atwater asked, “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Grey?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

He led Julia onto the floor while his brother asked Felicity.

As they stood waiting for the dance to begin, just behind her she heard Mrs. Wilhern say her name. As her aunt was a little hard of hearing, she was talking in her loud, matter-of-fact way.